


The Man Named Edward

by Othalla



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Death, Gen, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Othalla/pseuds/Othalla
Summary: There’s a man – but not precisely a man, because he’s young and old and tall and short and there and not, all at once – that only Ed can see.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	The Man Named Edward

**Author's Note:**

> This is like, super old, but well, I am now also super old so that works out alright I guess?  
> (Am I having a midlife crisis? Perhaps. Is it my first one? Definitely not. SIGH.)
> 
> Anyways, praise [Karios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios) for helping me out and BETAing this!

”Will you kill me, when all this is over? When Al is safe?”

_Yes._

+

Ed knows that there’s a man – though not precisely a man, but close enough – that no one can see but him. He’s not always there, he disappears for months sometimes, but as soon as Ed starts to think about him – where he is, what he’s doing, what he _is_ – he comes back. He sits at their kitchen table, he stands at the back of the classroom, he makes funny faces behind his dad’s back. He always looks at Ed, a knowing glint in his eyes. Like there’s a joke and they’re the only ones in on it.

When his dad is gone and his mother relates more to Al than to Ed, the Man is there. Ed never points him out.

There’s a man – but not precisely a man, because he’s young and old and tall and short and there and not, all at once – that only Ed can see.

+

“Don’t touch him,” Ed says when he sees the Man leaning over Al’s bed. “He’s not yours.”

The Man turns slowly, each move calculated and meticulously performed, and his eyes stare straight into Ed’s. They’re shining embers that are somehow both darker than the night sky outside their window, and brighter than the sun at noon.

_And why not?_

“He’s mine, that’s why. And I saw what you did with my mother.” Ed’s voice is rough from screaming and crying and promises that he intends to keep. “You’re not taking him, too.”

The Man only laughs, but he gets up from the bed and that’s what’s important.

_You know I_ _’_ _ll collect, though, don_ _’_ _t you? I always collect, Ed._

“Not yet you won’t,” Ed says and the man goes away like a shadow filled with light.

“Not yet.”

+

Al is against it when Ed decides to become a dog. He glowers from where he’s sitting on a chair that is much too small for his new – wrong, it’s so wrong, it’s _hollow_ – body, as if trying to change his mind by sheer force of will.

Ed just glares right back.

He won’t change his mind for anything.

The Man sits on the other chair in the room, smiling widely as Ed tells Al that his mind is made up.

_No one can make you do anything, Edward. You aren_ _’_ _t made that way._

+

Sometimes Ed wonders what he _is_ made of.

+

Al doesn’t sleep after the _incident_. He doesn’t eat or bleed or take a fucking shit either because he can’t.

Armors aren’t meant to be people. And yet, that is what Ed cursed him to be.

+

“I always thought there didn’t exist a greedier person than me. I mean, I’m _Greed_ , how could a mere mortal _want_ more than I?” Greed says from his place on his throne made of gold and broken bodies. His smile is sharp and knowing.

This man knows far too much.

“But you, Edward, might just beat me. Because you take having the cake and eating it too, to a whole new level.”

Ed’s probably gonna have to kill him.

“It’s admirable, really. _Imagine_ what our minds could conjure together.”

+

Roy looks at him like a dying man in the desert looks at a lake. He’s all fire and brimstone, an old star run out of cinder, begging for the black hole that walks in Ed’s footsteps to swallow him whole.

Roy burns too easily, is the thing. All too bright and all too quickly.

The Man smiles.

_Only a word, Edward._

Ed’s never learned how to put out fires.

+

The Man laughs.

Ed stares. Tucker is cowering in the corner where Ed threw him, and Nina – oh God, Nina _Nina **NINA**_ – moans in pain, the pitch of her voice fracturing between canine and human.

“Brother?” Nina forces out of her trashed vocal cords.

Ed feels his hold on his mind slipping, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to _do_.

He wants to squeeze the life out of a grown man, to rupture his organs and draw circles from his intestines. He wants to paint a scene, to tell each and every person who steps through the doors to this house, just what Fathers do to their children when there are no eyes watching. He wants them to _know_ , like he knows. Like Al knows.

Like Nina knows.

“Brother?” Nina crawls toward him to press herself against his leg. She’s shivering enough to make her bones rattle like broken chimes in the wind. “Brother, it _hurts_.”

Ed snarls, and – Tucker is no longer in the corner but right there, struggling against Ed’s hold on his throat. Tucker’s face grows purple, and his nails leave red lines down Ed’s brow and cheeks. He thrashes. Saliva froths down his chin, and splatters at Ed’s feet. His eyes bulge out, and something pops. Something bursts.

Ed squeezes harder. His hands are wet.

_Thank you, Edward._

The Man lays a hand on his neck. Oh so gently. Oh so softly. Oh so _sweetly_.

_I_ _’_ _ll treasure this one._

+

They look at him differently, after. They search for cracks and fault lines on his person, trying to find out if he’s sane or if he’s gone off the deep end.

Ed just barely stifles a giggle.

He’s been broken since before they met him and they’re just now starting to notice.

It’s amazing what people can will themselves not to notice.

+

Sometimes Ed pretends that he can’t hear Al’s voice. It doesn’t hurt in quite the same way to not hear it as it does to hear it, and Ed is a weak shell of a person on the best of days.

Al’s voice reverberates, is the thing. It bounces around inside the armor, amplifying in intensity while simultaneously escaping through seams and cracks, and it’s no wonder no one believes he’s a child. He doesn’t sound like a child.

Al doesn’t even sound like he’s human.

+

If Ed has to guess, he’d say that the Man likes Teacher. He’s around more when Teacher is close, and he follows her with his eyes almost as much as he follows Ed. He feels fond of her, almost.

Well, as fond as the Man can feel, anyway.

+

The Man loathes Father, and Ed loves him for it.

+

Ed’s middle finger is broken. It’s bent backward in a way it was never meant to be, and it’s not the sort of injury one can hide.

“Better let Fury look at that,” Roy says with a grimace.

Ed shrugs and bends it back the way it’s meant to be, the pain only an afterthought, and ties it together with his ring finger. “I heal fast enough,” Ed says.

Roy’s face twitches, like he’s trying to school it into something more neutral and failing just a bit.

“If you say so,” Roy replies after a moment of uneasy silence. He doesn’t sound like he believes it.

Ed wonders if he would believe himself, if things were different, and maybe he’s tired but he can’t help but –

“Do you believe in God?” Ed asks, pretending that the question isn’t as important as it really is.

Roy blinks, confusion plain on his face. “No, I can’t say I do.”

Ed looks away, over the ruins of a house that is no more, and meets the Man’s gaze.

The Man is grinning.

+

Al sounds the way, Ed imagines, the Man would sound if anyone could actually hear him.

He tries not to think on that.

+

When Ed looks in a mirror, he sometimes sees a boy – though not precisely a boy, but close enough – that no one can see but him. The boy has short blond hair, two arms and two legs, and a smile with no hidden teeth. Behind the boy is another boy – a Brother – and a woman – a Mother – and a man – a Father, and they have one hand each on the boy’s shoulders.

The boy is happy.

Then Ed blinks and the boy is gone.

+

One day the Man will come and never leave.

Some days, when Ed’s arm feels heavy enough to drag against the ground and the fingers around his neck are not so much gently caressing as they are collaring, he wonders if that day hasn’t already come and gone.

The Man smiles.

_You decide, Ed. As always._

+

Ed walks on.


End file.
